


Winter Sky

by lemoncakelady



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 03:11:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17195408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemoncakelady/pseuds/lemoncakelady
Summary: Theon Greyjoy accompanies his friend Robb Stark, a freestyle skier, as he prepares for an upcoming competition at the Stark family ski resort. Little do they know, a stuck chairlift will change their lives forever.__This is my secret santa gift for a throbb gift exchange on tumblr! The prompts I chose as inspiration were ski trip/skating, Greywind/dogs, and friends to lovers. The archive warning is for a very mild fight scene that occurs at the end of the first part. Enjoy!





	Winter Sky

**Author's Note:**

> Theon Greyjoy accompanies his friend Robb Stark, a freestyle skier, as he prepares for an upcoming competition at the Stark family ski resort. Little do they know, a stuck chairlift will change their lives forever. 
> 
> __ 
> 
> This is my secret santa gift for a throbb gift exchange on tumblr! The prompts I chose as inspiration were ski trip/skating, Greywind/dogs, and friends to lovers. The archive warning is for a very mild fight scene that occurs at the end of the first part. Enjoy!

 

_Part I._

            Whenever he watched Robb ski, Theon Greyjoy felt two things. The first was fear. It was a deep, aching dread that coiled like a snake in his stomach when he saw Robb’s skis leave the jump, his silhouette climbing higher and higher before hurtling back to the earth. The second was awe, awe that filled his chest and made it hard to breathe, as if each time watching were his very first. Theon’s eyes would fix on Robb as he soared through the sky, twisting impossibly in the air before crashing back down again to meet once more the gleaming snow. He’d slide back onto the slope with almost uncanny grace, as if his skis had never left its surface. Land or sky, it didn’t matter— Robb Stark could fly.

            When he thought about it, Theon had to admit that the two feelings weren’t so different, really.

            And today was the same. Theon stood all the way down at the bottom of the slope next to Patrek Mallister, one foot strapped in his snowboard, watching Robb make his descent.

            “Is that Stark?” Patrek asked, pushing his goggles up to his forehead. He squinted against the glare of the sun off the bright snow, his nose wrinkling.

            “Yep,” said Theon. From where they were standing, Robb was hardly more than a black dot atop the hill, making his way down to the first jump. To most people, he’d probably look no different than the other distant skiers until he hit the air, but Theon could pick him out in a heartbeat. It was something about his shape, or maybe the way he moved. In truth, Theon didn’t quite know how he knew, but it was _Robb._

            They watched Robb take the first jump, rotating several times midair and landing almost lazily before moving toward the second, which he took backwards, spinning so that he faced forward on the landing. He picked up speed as he approached the third jump. When he took it, pulling his knees into his chest and spinning in a tight ball, Theon’s breath caught. Patrek swore softly beside him. On the final jump, Robb crossed his skis and reached back with one hand to grab them.

            Gods, when he grabbed his fucking skis.

            After his last landing, Robb took a sharp turn, making a beeline for Theon and Patrek as if he’d been watching them the whole time. He came in fast, skidding to a halt just feet in front of them, shards of snow spraying out from beneath his skis. Patrek fell backward, but Theon hardly blinked.

            “Decent run, Stark,” Theon said mildly as Robb bent down to offer Patrek a hand.

            “ _Decent_?” Patrek echoed when he rose, wiping the snow from his arms.

            “I’ll take that for now,” said Robb. He tore the helmet from his head, red faced and breathless. “But I’m going to need better than decent on Saturday.”

            The Starks were hosting a region-wide invitational at their ski resort that weekend, and Robb would be competing in the slopestyle and half-pipe events. His auburn curls, darkened by sweat, bounced as he shook his hair out like Grey Wind after plunging from the bath. One stubborn strand stayed plastered to his forehead, and Theon had to stop himself from reaching out and brushing it aside.

             It was bitterly cold, but Robb wore minimal gear. His polyester shirt bulged at the curves of his biceps and clung tightly to his hard, flat abdomen. Robb Stark was warm, always warm. You could almost feel it radiating off him. Tiny droplets of sweat beaded his brow, and his breath came out in bursts of steam.

             Theon shivered.

              “You two want to come up with me on the next run?” Robb asked, motioning toward the lift. “I’m gonna take another crack at the half-pipe.”

            The trio boarded the chairlift together. Theon turned back to watch the chalet grow smaller and smaller as they ascended the hillside. Heights had never bothered him; as a young boy, he used to race his sister across the tallest bridge in his hometown of Pyke— before he was sent to Winterfell to live with the Starks.

            Patrek, on the other hand, laced his fingers together, his gaze fixed staunchly ahead on the chairlift in front of them, never wandering downward.

           Theon, a swimmer, had never loved winter sports— not like Robb, at least— but you couldn’t grow up with the Starks without getting out on the snow and the ice. The Starks lived for winter. Robb, the oldest of the Stark children, was a freestyle skiing prodigy. Then there was Sansa; she enjoyed downhill skiing, but figure skating was her true passion. The Starks had their own skating rink just west of the chalet. The younger Stark girl, Arya, preferred ice hockey, just like Jon, who was of age with Robb and technically a cousin to the Stark children, but he lived with them, and they all treated him like a brother. The littlest, Rickon, dabbled in everything. Theon suspected he’d turn out to be an even bigger thrill junkie than Robb someday. Before the accident, Bran, too, had loved to ski.

            Theon himself was a decent snowboarder— in the true sense of the word. He wasn’t good enough to compete, but he sure could give Patrek a run for his money any day.

            Robb, Theon, and Patrek spent the whole afternoon out on the slopes. The Karstark brothers, who’d be competing that weekend, skied with them for a spell, and Smalljon Umber even joined them for a few runs. With his bulky frame, Smalljon was a more apt hockey player than a snowboarder, but the Umbers were close with the Starks and frequented their resort on winter weekends and holidays.

            Whenever he went out with Robb, Theon noticed that people seemed to flock to them. Robb was magnetic like that; people were drawn to him. Theon felt a certain resentment for his best friend, an envy that ate away at him from the inside, but he also felt a strange sort of pride. Robb had all the makings of your typical popular kid— good looks, athleticism, a rich family— but, unlike most popular kids, who Theon thought tended toward snobbish and arrogant, Robb deserved the praise and attention he got. The thing was, Robb Stark was _good_ — wholly and unequivocally good. Theon had always thought it was bullshit when people told him that true popularity lay in being nice to everyone— in his experience, being nice got you jack shit— but it really was true for Robb. Theon didn’t know how he would ever have gotten through his first few months in Winterfell, a scared and stricken boy of scarcely eight years, if Robb hadn’t made such an effort to get to know him and spend time with him. Theon’s initial wariness and resistance had seemed to unnerve everyone else, but Robb was undeterred.

            After a quick dinner in the chalet, Patrek turned in for the night, but Robb and Theon went back out to get in a few more runs. It was easy to attribute Robb’s skiing prowess to the fact that his family owned their own ski resort that he could use whenever he wanted and had enough money to buy him nice gear and professional trainer, but the truth was, Robb was a hard worker. He crossed trained in the off-season, working hard to improve his form, and even practiced gymnastics to help try out new tricks. He rose early even on weekends to hit the slopes, and he was usually among the last at the resort, skiing well past dark. Theon didn’t really need the extra practice, but he liked keeping Robb company. And, if he were honest with himself, it wasn’t like he had much better to do on a Thursday night of their winter break.

            But as the night wore on, and with it the persistent chill of the bitter wind, Theon had a few fleeting thoughts of one or two places he’d perhaps rather be. These came mostly on the rides up the hillside, when it was so cold his spittle crusted to ice on the inside of his facemask, and his snot froze to his upper lip. Even beneath his gloves, his fingers became stiff and red; it felt someone was poking his hands all over with tiny needles.

            “Fuck, it’s cold,” Theon remarked as he and Robb boarded the chairlift again. He peeled his gloves off and cupped his hands to his face, blowing into his palms in a vain attempt to warm them up.

            “Gods, Theon, your fingers are bright red,” said Robb. He reached over and seized Theon’s hands without warning.

            Even through Robb’s mittens, Theon could feel the warmth of his skin.

            “How are you not freezing?” said Theon.

            Robb shrugged, rubbing one of Theon’s hands between his own. He stared down at it in quiet concentration, the friction from the fabric of his mittens warming the surface of Theon’s skin. When he was finished, he set it down gently on Theon’s thigh before grabbing the other and doing the same.

            “You’re such a mom,” said Theon. He scoffed, but when Robb set his second hand back down with a pat, Theon couldn’t help but feel disappointed.

 _No, don’t stop_ , he almost said.

            When they reached the top of the hillside, they glided off the chairlift and took a sharp left, heading for one of the longest courses on the west side of the resort. Already sore from a long day of snowboarding, Theon took it easy on the jumps, swerving around a few of them altogether to save his legs.

            Theon found it easy to forget about the cold when he was snowboarding; at least then he had exertion and adrenaline to warm him. It was all the waiting around— riding the chairlift, standing outside the chalet— when the cold really got to you.

            By the time they finished the course, it seemed the whole resort had cleared out. For the past few hours, as darkness grew thicker over the slope side, guests had been steadily trickling out of the resort, red-faced from the cold and weighed down by the all gear they lugged with them. Now, an almost eerie silence hung over the bottom of the hill, broken only by the steady hum of the last running lift.

            “I want to take just one more run,” said Robb. “You can turn in, if you want. Warm up in the chalet.”

            “I don’t need your permission, Stark,” Theon said, rolling his eyes. “But you shouldn’t be out skiing alone, so I guess I’ll tag along. It’s bloody cold, though.”

            He spat into the snow.

            Robb clapped him on the shoulder, and they made for the chairlift one last time.

            The final ride was the coldest of the night. Theon watched the seats ahead of them sway perilously as the wind picked up, almost ghostly in their emptiness. The snow below them gleamed blue-white in the moonlight, and the lights on the lift burned pale yellow.

            Theon and Robb were nearly at the top of the hill when the steady drone of the lift dropped in pitch, and they rattled to a halt.

            “Shit,” said Robb.

            “It usually fixes itself when it stalls like this, right?” Theon asked.

            “Yeah,” Robb said. “Just give it a minute or two.”

            They gave it a minute, then two— but the lift didn’t budge.

            “If we die up here, Stark, I’m blaming you,” said Theon.

            “Die?” Robb laughed. “Of what?”

            Theon shrugged.

            “I don’t know,” he said. “Dehydration, maybe.”

            “Don’t be ridiculous,” said Robb. “We can always call someone.”

            “Hypothermia,” Theon added.

            Robb scooted closer to him.

            “I’ll admit it,” the Stark boy said. “It _is_ fucking cold.”

            They sat there, wordless for a few moments, pressed together and hunched against the cold. Robb slung an arm over the back of their seat, and Theon drummed his fingers on the metal railing of the chair.

            “How high up are we, do you reckon?” Theon asked, leaning forward to glance at the ground below. “Do you think I’d make it if I jumped off right now and went to get help?”

            Robb grabbed him by the bicep with surprising roughness.

            “Don’t joke like that,” he said.

            Theon raised his hands to his shoulders in mock defense.

            “Gods, Robb,” he said. “You don’t really think I’m that stupid, do you?”

            Robb relaxed his grip on Theon’s arm and leaned back into his seat.

            “Not _that_ stupid.”

            Theon punched him playfully on the upper arm, eliciting just the hint of a grin at the corners of Robb’s lips.

            “You know, I thought you’d take it easier today,” said Theon. “You don’t want to strain yourself too much before Saturday.”

            “Tomorrow I will,” said Robb. “Just a few runs to stay loose. But I can’t afford to slack off this week.”

            His gaze dropped away from Theon’s, and his face fell slack. Robb was his own harshest critic, and Theon knew he’d lose him to a wave of worry if he didn’t say something soon.

            “What’s wrong?” Theon asked.

            “Nothing,” said Robb. “Just thinking.”

            “Oh, don’t do _that_.”

            The smile Robb gave him was stiff, and he continued to stare out at some vague point in the distance, as if searching for something in the darkness.

            “Hey,” Theon said, squeezing Robb’s shoulder. “What’s so different about this week than any other competition?”

            “I don’t know,” said Robb. He paused for a moment, chewing at his lip. “It’s just that…it’s my home turf, you know? So there’s that added pressure.”

            “Robb, you know these courses better than anyone,” said Theon. “If anything, that should give you confidence.”

            “But it means I have to be flawless,” said Robb.

            “Robb, you don’t have to be anything,” said Theon.

            Robb met Theon’s eyes for a moment, and his lips parted like he was going to say something, but he must’ve thought better of it, because he clenched his jaw and turned away.

            “Besides,” Theon continued, “this entire conversation is pointless, because you’re going to do amazing.”

            “You don’t know that,” said Robb.

            “But I do, though,” said Theon.

            Robb turned to face him. His blue eyes were cool in the moonlight.

            “How can you just _know_ I’m going to do amazing?” Robb asked.

            “Because you always do,” Theon said. His next words spilled out of his mouth before he had the chance to stop them. “Robb, _you’re_ amazing.”

            Something in Robb’s face changed then. He glanced quickly to the side as if to make sure that no one was watching before leaning over and kissing Theon full on the lips.

            Despite the bitter cold, all the warmth in the world would’ve meant nothing to Theon in that moment; he was on fire. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think. The only thing that mattered was Robb’s lips against his own— warm, sweet, and surprisingly soft.

            The lift let out a sudden groan as it lurched back into motion, and Theon started from his seat, jumping so violently he nearly threw himself from the lift. Robb seized him by the shoulders and pulled him, hard, back against the seat.

            Theon was sure he would die, right then and there. His heart would burst straight through his sternum, and he’d fall face forward from the lift. He half felt like jumping from it of his own volition, to spare himself from what Robb might say next.

            But what happened instead was even worse; neither of them spoke for the rest of the ride up. It couldn’t have been more than another minute or two, but to Theon it felt like hours. When they at last reached the top of the slope, they slipped from the lift, starting in different directions before coming to a stop.

            “I’m going—” said Robb, motioning vaguely to his left.

            “Half-pipe,” said Theon.

             They lingered for a moment before splitting off. Theon had no clue how he made it to the bottom of the course, but he found himself at the bottom of the hill all the same, his heart pounding and his head rushing.

             He unstrapped himself from his snowboard and stuffed it under his arm, making a beeline for the chalet. Stopping on the back porch, he squatted to pet Grey Wind, Robb’s massive dog, who was lying by the back door, probably waiting for his owner to return for the night.

             Theon rose and leaned against the railing, straining to see in the dark until he spotted Robb finishing his descent down the hillside. Then, Theon turned and scurried into the chalet, gathering his things hastily with trembling hands.

             He couldn’t stop wondering whether Robb had really kissed him or if he was crazy enough to have dreamt it, awake. But at the same time, Theon knew that nothing could be more real than the memory of Robb’s lips pressed to his own, the warmth that still lingered on his mouth and in his chest. It should’ve comforted him; Theon wanted it to be real.

             Yet he couldn’t help but worry what all of this meant for him and Robb. Could an action that had spanned mere seconds ruin a friendship of ten years? The only thing Theon knew for certain was that everything was different now. He couldn’t forget what had happened on the chairlift, and he didn’t want to. And that frightened him.

             It was Theon’s fear that made him run. He knew he was only making things worse, but he did it anyway.

 _You stupid fucking coward_ , Theon thought as he scrambled from the chalet and into the parking lot, still shaking. He should’ve grabbed Robb by the face and kissed him fiercely. He should’ve told Robb how he felt. He should’ve stayed.

            His and Robb’s were the only cars left in the lot, so Theon was alarmed to hear the voices of a group of men gathered somewhere to his left, beyond Robb’s car. He switched directions to approach them, striding cautiously across the asphalt.

            Three men in dark clothes were standing hunched next to Robb’s car. Two were speaking to one another in hushed voices, and the third was fumbling with the lock on Robb’s passenger side door.

            “Hey!” Theon yelled, picking up his pace. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

            The man at the door jumped backward, stuffing his hands into his pockets. The other two turned to face Theon. They all appeared to be a few years older than Theon, and he didn’t recognize any of them.

            “This your car, kid?” the tallest man asked, taking a step forward.

            “Who are you?” Theon demanded.

            “Hand over the keys,” said the man who’d been fiddling with the door handle, “and there’ll be no trouble.”  

            “Why would there be trouble?” said Theon. “I don’t see why you need my keys.”

            “This one thinks he’s smart,” the first man said. And before Theon could even think about stepping aside, the man wound up and smacked him across the face.

            Theon staggered backward, more surprised than hurt by the blow. It was far from his first time being hit; he knew the feeling.

            “C’mon kid, cough up.”

            “I swear, I don’t have the fucking keys,” said Theon. “I just—”

            The man hit him again, this time with a closed fist. Theon fell to his knees.  

            All three of them were beginning to close in around Theon. He thought of telling them that he wasn’t alone, that his friend was packing up in the chalet and would be out soon. But even then, it’d be just him and Robb against the three of them. Theon didn’t want to put Robb in danger. Maybe if he didn’t mention Robb, they’d never find him.

            Theon pushed himself to his feet, wiping blood from his nose with his forearm.

            “That’s a nice coat you’ve got there,” one of the men said. “Did your rich daddy buy it for you?”

            Theon could almost feel his blood roiling. _If only they knew_ , he thought.

            “All these spoiled kids from the city,” another of the men chimed in. “Bet there’s a fat wallet in there, too.”

            Another of the men lunged forward and seized him by the shoulder. This time, Theon was ready. He turned and struck his assailant, causing him to break his grip and stumble backward.

            The other two sprung upon him. Theon knew it was stupid, but he fought back anyway. These men were every stuck-up Northern bully he’d known at school, who resented him for his family name. They were his brothers, Rodrik and Maron, who teased him and beat him for fun. They were his father, who hit him because he could. These men were on Stark land, trying to steal from Robb _._ These men thought he was weak— and Theon Greyjoy was anything but.

            Theon got in a few good blows, but he took more than he gave. Somehow, they got him on the ground. He tasted blood and bile and asphalt. Someone kicked him in the ribs.

            Through a swollen eye, Theon looked up and saw the silver gleam of a pocket knife. But as he braced himself for it to descend upon him, one of the men cried out in alarm.

            A low growl sounded from somewhere behind Theon, and when he turned his head, he saw two amber eyes burning in the darkness.

            Grey Wind stepped next to Theon, emerging from behind Robb’s car into the stale light of the lamp post above them. His ears were pinned to his head, and his gums were drawn back, exposing his enormous yellow teeth.

            “Holy shit,” one of the men panted.

            Grey Wind snarled, and the trio staggered backward.

            Theon struggled to his feet, balling his fists.

            Grey Wind began to bark, lunging toward the group of men.

            “C’mon,” the tall man said, beckoning the others.

            Together, the three men turned and ran, disappearing into the darkness. The moment they vanished, Theon’s knees buckled beneath him. He sighed, slumping backward and resting his head against one of Robb’s tires. When he spat, it tasted of iron.

            Grey Wind trotted to Theon’s side, lowering his head and whimpering. 

            “Good boy,” Theon breathed, ruffling the hair between the colossal dog’s ears. Grey Wind began to lick his face. “Good boy.”

 

_Part II._

            Robb ran from the chalet as soon as he heard the barking. He stumbled across the snow and into the parking lot, his heart pounding in his throat. He knew it was probably just a deer or something, but Grey Wind was usually so well-behaved; he didn’t tend to bark without good reason. And Robb had a bad feeling deep in his gut, as if the dog’s worry were his own.

            When he saw a figure sitting slumped against his car in the shadows, Robb ran faster.

            “Theon!” he cried when he got to the car, squatting down beside the Greyjoy boy.

            Theon’s lip was split, and blood seeped from his nose. His face had already begun to bruise at his jawline and left eye.

            “Are you alright?” Robb asked. He didn’t know quite why he grabbed Theon by the upper arm. Maybe he just wanted to touch him, somehow. To comfort Theon and himself. To hold him, warm and alive and safe.

            “M’fine,” Theon said, wiping his nose on his sleeve.

            “Are you sure?” said Robb, locking in Theon’s gaze. “Do you need me to call an ambulance?”

            “Gods, Robb, no—”

            “The police?”

            “I’m fine, Robb,” Theon said, squeezing Robb firmly on the shoulder. “Really, I am.”

            Robb let out a shuddering sigh, trying to calm down enough to make sense of it all.

            “Theon, what happened?” he asked. “Wait— let’s get you inside. C’mon.”

            Theon winced as Robb helped him up. He teetered when he reached his feet.

            “Woah woah woah,” said Robb, steadying Theon so he didn’t fall.

            Theon slung an arm around Robb’s shoulders, and together they hobbled to the chalet, Grey Wind trotting at their heels.

            Once inside, Robb helped Theon to the couch in the lounge before scrambling to gather ice, bandages, gauze, and antibiotic ointment.

            “Geez, Robb,” Theon said as Robb reentered the lounge with an armful of supplies. “Are you about to perform surgery on me or something?”

            It was good to see Theon joking. It gave Robb some small comfort amidst all his concern.

            “Tilt you head forward,” Robb instructed, pressing an ice pack to Theon’s jaw and handing him a wad of gauze.

            “Forward?” Theon asked. “I thought it was backward for nosebleeds.”

            “No, you’ll swallow your own blood that way,” said Robb.

            “Huh,” said Theon, his voice muffled by gauze. “Well, I’ve been doing it wrong my whole life, then.”

            Robb dabbed at Theon’s bloody lip with the gauze and helped him apply antibiotic ointment to the cuts on his face. Then, he went back to the kitchen to fetch another ice pack, and, as an afterthought, a thick quilt.

            As much as he hated to see Theon hurt, Robb liked taking care of him. Robb had been taking care of his little siblings for as long as he could remember; he was good at it. Besides, having something tactile to focus on helped calm his nerves, and he liked having an excuse to touch Theon, to be close to him.

            “Theon, who did this to you?” Robb asked when he returned. He lifted Theon’s shirt to place the ice pack on the bruise near Theon’s ribs, exposing the taut creases of his abdomen.

            “I don’t know,” Theon said as Robb draped the quilt around his shoulders. “There were these three guys out in the parking lot. They were tampering with your car— I think they meant to steal it. They asked me for the keys, and…I don’t know. They just started hitting me. I got a few good licks in, but I couldn’t fend off all three of them.”

            “Gods,” Robb breathed. “But you’re alright?”

            “Enough,” said Theon.

            Robb sighed, massaging his forehead with his fingers.

            “So, you have no idea who they were?” he asked. “Where they went?”

            Theon shook his head.

            “Wildlings, probably,” he said.

            “Don’t let Jon hear you calling them that,” said Robb. Jon’s girlfriend Ygritte was from a neighborhood near the ski resort, not the city itself, where the Starks lived. He wouldn’t take too well to Theon’s use of the derogatory term for the inhabitants of the city’s northern suburbs.

            “I don’t give two shits what Jon thinks,” said Theon. “Besides, he’s not here.”

            Robb wished his two best friends got along better. For ten years he’d been trying, to little avail, to bring Theon and Jon closer together. But now was not the time to press anything. 

            “How’d you shake them?” asked Robb.

            “They ran when Grey Wind showed up,” said Theon.

            “Grey Wind,” Robb echoed, turning to face his dog for the first time since entering the chalet.

             Grey Wind sat patiently beside the arm of the couch, pricking his ears at the sound of his name. Robb set down the ice pack for moment to scratch him on the neck, pressing his nose into the massive dog’s fur.

            “Good boy,” Robb murmured. _Thank you_ , he could’ve said. He turned back to Theon. “Someone’s getting a big supper tonight.”

            “Thanks, I’m actually pretty hungry,” said Theon, his smirk widening the split in his lip.

            Robb rolled his eyes, but taking another look at Theon all bruised and bloodied on the couch, his face softened.

            “Seriously, though,” he said, “do you want something to eat?”

            Theon shook his head.

            “I’m fine,” he said. “I could use some wine, though.”

            “If you’re looking for something to numb the pain a bit, ibuprofen would be better,” said Robb.

            “Robb, I was just beat up by three strangers in a parking lot,” Theon said. “I need a fucking drink.”

            “Fair,” said Robb. “I’ll see what’s in the cellar.”

            He lit the fireplace before leaving the room. Loath to leave Theon alone for too long, Robb dug through his parents’ wine cellar hastily, coming out with two bottles of cherry port. He also brought with him the biggest rawhide he could find for Grey Wind.

            With Theon all bandaged up and Grey Wind gnawing happily at his reward, Robb poured the wine. It was thick, sweet stuff, but it packed a punch. Robb’s head was swimming before they’d even broken into the second bottle, but the evening’s excitement alone would’ve been enough to make him drunk.

            It was only when he and Theon were seated together on the couch, glasses in hand, that Robb remembered the kiss they’d shared on the chairlift— or at least, remembered it enough to let it bother him. The truth was, Robb couldn’t forget it if he tried. Rather, distracted by disaster, Robb had managed to store the memory somewhere in the back of his mind. Robb worried about everything so intensely that he hardly ever had the mental energy to worry about more than one thing at once. Maybe that’s why he did so well at skiing; when he was out on the slopes, everything else went away. But now, with Theon next to him, safe, and danger at bay, it all came rushing back to him— the fear, the anguish, and perhaps worst of all, the hope.

            “Look, Theon,” Robb began, feeling his throat dry up. “About earlier tonight, I’m sorry if I—”

            “Robb,” Theon interjected, leaning in closer to him, “I’m glad you kissed me.”

            Robb’s breath caught. Theon’s impossible green-blue eyes were fixed on him, awaiting his reply, but for a moment that felt like a lifetime, Robb couldn’t bring himself to speak. Finally, he swallowed a hard lump in his throat and found the words he wanted.

            “Can I do it again?” Robb asked quietly.

            “Please,” said Theon.

            Robb leaned over, placed a hand on Theon’s face, and, gingerly, pulled his lips to his own. Theon tasted of cherry wine and faintly of salt and iron, a vestige of the wound on his lips. Robb didn’t mind. He tried to be as tender as he could to avoid hurting Theon, kissing him slowly with gentle pressure. He grazed his thumb along Theon’s cheek and felt Theon’s hands running through his hair.

            Theon began to lean backward, pulling Robb on top of him by the collar. Robb placed a hand behind Theon’s head, cradling it as they transitioned from sitting to lying down, Robb propping himself up with his forearms on either side of Theon.

            Theon ran his hands up and down Robb’s arms as they kissed, squeezing his biceps. He bit Robb’s lower lip and dragged it through his teeth. Robb let out a low moan. When Theon let go of his lips, Robb rose, straddling Theon as he knelt, and pulled his shirt off over his head.

            For a moment, they locked eyes. Robb looked down at Theon, with his wine-flushed cheeks, the gleam of teeth as he grinned.

            Robb dove down once more and kissed him again, harder this time, Theon’s hands on his bare torso. Robb helped Theon wrestle out of his own shirt, too. He never had expected how nice it would feel to have Theon’s skin pressed against his own. Now, Robb couldn’t imagine anything else in the world. They had always been like this, they would always be like this, and nothing else mattered.

            Robb kissed Theon’s bruises one by one, from the top of his face all the way down to his torso. He barely brushed Theon’s skin with his lips, planting little kisses along his abdomen as he made his way down to the bruise along Theon’s ribs. There, Robb paused, thumbs hooked on Theon’s hips, brushing them gently. Despite the warmth of the fire and the drops sweat that beaded Theon’s skin, Robb felt the Greyjoy boy shiver beneath him.

            He looked up and met Theon’s gaze.

            “Do you want me to stop?” Robb asked.

            “Fuck, no,” said Theon.

            Robb grinned, fiddling with the buckle of Theon’s belt.

***

            Robb couldn’t remember when they had fallen asleep, but he woke to the warm morning light spilling in through the slits in the blinds, his phone buzzing on the coffee table, and his arm wrapped around his best friend’s bare chest.

            Theon was still asleep next to him on the couch, face pressed to the pillow and mouth hanging open slightly. Robb tried not to wake him as he rolled from the couch to grab his phone. But when he saw his screen, all caution left him.

             “Shit!” he cried, leaping to his feet. Six messages from his mother.

             “What is it?” Theon said groggily, turning over on the couch.

             Robb didn’t have time to stop and fully appreciate the way Theon’s muscles stretched beneath his skin as he moved. He wanted nothing more than to lie back down on the couch and throw his phone across the room, but he had to answer his mother.

             “It’s my mom,” Robb said, dialing her back as he spoke. “And it’s morning.”

             “No, it’s not,” Theon groaned, stuffing his face back into the pillow.

             Catelyn Stark picked up right away.

             “Honey, where are you?” she said. “It’s seven in the morning.”

             “I’m just at the resort,” said Robb. “I’m fine.”

             He proceeded to explain to her the events of the evening, leaving out what actually happened in the chalet, of course.

             “And Theon’s alright?” his mother asked when he finished.

             “Yeah,” Robb said, glancing over at Theon on the couch, who had now stuffed his head under the pillow completely. “A little bruised up, but it’s nothing serious.”

             “Why didn’t you come home after?” said his mother.

             “I don’t know,” said Robb. “We were pretty freaked out, at the time. We didn’t want to go back outside, and I was helping him get cleaned up, and we put on a movie and just sort of fell asleep.”

             Robb hating lying, but in that moment, he prayed he was good at it.

            “Robb, why didn’t you call us?” she asked. “Why didn’t you call the _police_?”

            “The police seemed extreme,” said Robb. “And I don’t know, I didn’t want to freak you out or anything. I honestly thought we’d be home last night. Honestly.”

            His mother sighed.

            “I’ll have to talk to your father,” she said. “We’ll have to get tighter security for this weekend, with all the guests we’ll be having.”

            “Yeah,” said Robb. “That’d be good.”

            “You know we’ll have to file an incident report,” Catelyn said. “Your father and I can sit down with the two of you this evening and go through that.”

            “Okay,” said Robb. “Yeah.

            “So, you’re coming home this morning?”

            “I mean,” said Robb, “I was going to drive up today anyway and get a few runs in before the competition tomorrow. So, I might just stay and do that quick while I’m here. I’ll be home for lunch.”

            “Alright,” his mother said. “Well, I’m glad you’re both safe. Call me if you need anything.”

            “Yeah,” said Robb. “I will.”

            “I love you.”

            “You too, mom.”

            Robb hung up, sighed, and fell back against the couch, lifting Theon’s legs and draping them over his own.

            “What did you mom want?” Theon asked. He flung the pillow that covered his face onto the floor.

            “To know why the fuck we didn’t come home last night,” said Robb.

            “Oh,” Theon said. “Yeah, I suppose.”

            Robb clapped his hand against Theon’s calf.

            “We should get up,” he said.

            “No, we shouldn’t,” said Theon. He tugged Robb on the arm.

            “Theon,” Robb breathed. Their lips were nearly brushing. “We can’t. Skiers will show up any minute.”

            “Fine,” Theon said, slumping back against the couch.

            Robb chewed at his lip. He considered asking Theon if he wanted to talk about what had happened, now that they were, for the time being, safe and sound and sober. He thought it could be good to clear the air and address any awkwardness that lingered between them, to hash out what this meant for their friendship. But the weirdest thing was how weird it _didn’t_ feel. For years, Robb had wanted to kiss Theon, to tell him how he truly felt, but he’d always been too afraid that it would jeopardize their friendship. But now, sitting in the warm winter light, Robb was surprised how natural all of it seemed.

            With more reluctance from Theon, they rose to get ready. Robb watched Theon as he dressed, drinking in the sight of him in his boxers, hard and lithe and lean, his shoulder muscles rippling as he pulled his shirt on over his head. It was good to be able to watch him without guilt. His bruises had begun to darken, now a deep purple-blue.

            Robb raided the chalet kitchen, and together they ate scrambled eggs in the chalet cafeteria. After breakfast, Robb gathered his skiing gear. Glancing out the window, he saw that the resort’s earliest guests were just arriving in the parking lot.

            “You’re not snowboarding today, are you?” Robb asked as Theon laced up his boots.

            Theon shrugged.

            “I thought I might give it a go,” he said.

            “No,” said Robb.

            “No?” Theon repeated, turning to him face Robb with a glimmer of indignance in his eyes.

            “I mean, you should stay in,” said Robb. “You know, rest.”

            Theon stood, wincing.

            “I _am_ pretty sore,” he said. “But I can at least watch a few runs from the bottom of the hill.

            They left the chalet together, stepping out into the biting cold. It was a crisp winter morning, the sky pale and clear.

            Robb missed Theon on his rides up the hillside. The chairlift dipped a bit on Robb’s side without the weight of a companion to balance out his own. Far above the trees, the wind whipped mercilessly. For the first time in a while, Robb felt cold— deeply, irrefutably cold.

            Now that he was done worrying about Theon’s reaction to their kiss on the chairlift, and without Theon’s presence to distract and reassure him, Robb could devote all his strength to worrying about the competition.

            He tried to convince himself that he was ready; he had practiced like a madman for weeks. All he could do now was try to relax and stay loose. Trying out his tricks one last time on the slopes would help calm his nerves before the big day.

            Robb gave himself a few cracks at the half-pipe. Once he felt confident with his combination of tricks, he decided to try out the slopestyle course. He spotted a few of his contenders hitting the slopes early— Cley Cerwyn, Gawen Glover, and Artos Flint. He’d skied against them all in previous competitions. He chatted with Glover at the top of the hill between half-pipe runs and shared a few rides on the lift with Cley Cerwyn.

            Just before ten, Robb decided that his next run down the slopestyle course would be his last, if all went well. He took a deep breath at the top of the hill and pushed off. He executed his first two tricks as well as he could have hoped to. His landing off the third jump was less than perfect, but with how the rest of the run was going, Robb wasn’t too bothered.

            But coming off the fourth jump, Robb knew something was wrong the moment his skis hit the air. He tried to fix himself mid-trick, to adjust his position in the air to make for a decent landing, but then the ground rushed up to meet him, white and bleak as the winter sky.

_Part III._

Theon saw it happen from the bottom of the hill. He didn’t even know what trick Robb had been attempting, but something had gone wrong midair. Robb struck his head— hard— against the snow on his landing, and his limp body slid down the slope, skidding to a stop at the flagged fencing that bounded the course.

            Theon ran, his boots slipping in the snow. He strained against the grade of the slope, praying for Robb to move, to show any sign of life. But to Theon’s horror, Robb remained motionless.

            When he reached the spot where Robb lay, Theon dropped to his side. He lifted Robb’s visor, and for a few terrible seconds, Robb was unresponsive. Theon would’ve screamed for help if he could’ve made any sound at all.

            Finally, Robb’s eyes blinked open, and he let out a soft groan.

            All the breath left Theon’s chest at once.

            “Robb!” he cried. “Are you alright?” he clutched Robb by the arm.

            “I think so,” said Robb. With Theon’s help, he sat up slowly. “I fucked up, didn’t I?”

            “Yeah,” Theon said, his voice breathy with relieved laughter. “Yeah, you did.”

            Someone had already called in the medical team- their red snowmobiles rushed toward them. Theon helped Robb onto one of the snowmobiles, and they rode back to the chalet.

            Robb was bruised badly on his jaw and outer thigh, and one of his front teeth had a minor chip, but he hadn’t broken any bones. After evaluation, the head medic said that he probably wasn’t concussed, which surprised Theon, having seen how hard his helmet had crashed against the ground.

            Robb’s mother had left for the resort after Robb called them to explain what happened. When she hurried into the medic’s office, she wrapped her son a tight embrace that Theon suspected hurt more than the fall itself.

            “How do you feel?” she asked when she released Robb at last.

            “A little tender,” Robb replied. “But I’m mostly just mad at myself for letting this happen on my last run.” He shook his head bitterly. “The day before the competition.”

            “Yeah, well, the rest of the field will be stoked to hear that they don’t have to go up against Robb Stark anymore,” said Theon.

            Robb turned to him, his blue eyes bright and piercing.

            “What do you mean?” he asked.

            “Honey, surely you’re not thinking of skiing tomorrow,” his mother said, rubbing his arm.

            “Of course I am,” said Robb, his head swiveling between his mother and Theon. “Are you crazy?”

            “Robb, that’s ridiculous,” Theon said. “You can’t ski tomorrow.”

            “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Robb. “I’m fine, honestly.”

            Catelyn turned to the head medic for confirmation.

            “Competing tomorrow would not be a good idea for him.” She said it like a question, her eyes wide.

            “I wouldn’t recommend it,” said the medic. He sat down in front of Robb. “Your left leg will still be pretty tender, and I wouldn’t trust it to be stable on your landings. And you may be more vulnerable to concussion than usual, with the jolt you just took to your head.”

            Catelyn nodded as the medic spoke, and Robb just stared at his knees, jaw set and eyes burning.

            “But,” the medic added, to Theon’s dismay, “I don’t think it would be the worst thing. You’d just have to take it easy until then, and maybe take some time off training after.”

            Robb’s eyes lit up, and a smile crept to his lips. His mother placed a hand on his shoulder.

            “I would feel a lot better if you didn’t ski tomorrow,” she said.

            “I would feel a lot better if I did,” said Robb.

            Catelyn pursed her lips.

            “Look,” said Robb, “I can handle this.”

            “Like you handled your ‘light practice’ today?” said Theon.

            Robb shot him a sharp look, and the medic stood up from his stool.

            “I’m going to leave this decision to you,” he said, gathering his supplies. “Just get some ice on that hip, and take it easy.”

            He shut the door behind him.

            “Please,” Robb said when the medic was gone. “I have to ski tomorrow. I promise I’ll take a break from training right after.”

            His mother sighed, pushing the hair back at his brow.

            “If it’s really that important to you,” she said, her tone begrudging. 

            “It is,” said Robb.

            Catelyn kissed his forehead.

            “Be careful,” she said.

            Theon could tell that Robb was trying to hide his limp on their way to the locker room.

            “Need a hand?” Theon asked, looking down at Robb’s lagging leg. “A shoulder to lean on?”

            “I’m fine,” Robb said gruffly.

            Theon shook his head.

            “You Starks sure are stubborn,” he said.

            He took a seat on the locker room bench beside Robb, watching him pack away his gear.

            “You really scared me today, Robb,” Theon said quietly.

           “Payback for yesterday,” Robb said, grinning.

           Theon laughed, clapping him on the shoulder.

           “If one of us could go one day— just one fucking day— without injuring ourselves, it’d be a miracle,” said Robb.

           “What a lovely pair we make,” Theon said, pulling Robb closer to him and raising his phone to take a picture, “all bruised and bloodied.”

           Theon handed Robb his phone when he was finished.

           “Gods, we look awful,” Robb laughed.

           The picture was truly horrible, with the split in Theon’s lip, the chip in Robb’s tooth, and the bruises on both of their faces. But they were happy, heads pressed together, smiling.

           “Robb,” Theon said, the smile falling from his face. “Don’t fall again tomorrow.”

           Robb pressed his lips against Theon’s gently, then drew back.

           “I won’t.”

 

_Part IV._

          Robb thought about his promise to Theon as he waited for his name to be called at the top of the hill on the day of the invitational. He’d secured second place in the half-pipe earlier that morning, but the slopestyle was usually his stronger event. But with the aching in his leg, Robb couldn’t be sure that he’d hold up.

          He turned his music up louder, trying to ignore the steady throbbing of his heart against his sternum and his pulse in the bruise on his hip. His whole family was waiting down at the bottom of the hill, Theon too, and the only thing that stood between them and Robb were a few jumps and some rails. Robb forced himself to take a deep, rattling breath. 

         But when his coach tapped him on the shoulder, signaling that it was time for him to go, everything else faded out— his music, the audience’s cheering, the pain in his leg, all the doubt that raced through his head. He tore his headphones out and positioned himself at the top of the slope, staring down at the course below him.

        Now it was just him, his skis, the snow, and the sky.

        Robb breezed through the rail section and set himself up to take the first big jump. He didn’t even remember how he got through the course, but all of a sudden he found himself at bottom of the slope, and the crowd was cheering like crazy.

        But when he skidded to a halt, his bruised leg buckled beneath him. As soon as Robb hit the snow, Theon was there to lend him a hand.

        “You did incredible,” Theon said breathlessly, pulling Robb to his feet. “Robb, I think you won.”

        Staring into Theon’s eyes at the bottom of the slope, Robb realized that he couldn’t care less how he skied; he’d already gotten the prize he wanted.


End file.
